


Absence

by RadarsTeddyBear



Series: Ducktober 2018 [8]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fictober, Gen, Introspection, prompt: scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 10:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadarsTeddyBear/pseuds/RadarsTeddyBear
Summary: Della should have been there to see all of this.





	Absence

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: ["Scars"](http://radarsteddybear.tumblr.com/post/169006603389/whumpreads-i-dont-draw-but-ive-been-thinking).

Donald stood at the railing of the main deck of the houseboat, looking out into the dark ocean.  He had a cup of tea in hand, the boys were asleep, and he actually had a pretty decent job that he hadn’t managed to mess up yet.  The boys were doing well in school, the houseboat was relatively clean, and the pantry was stocked with food and plenty of snacks. So, objectively, life was pretty good right now.

But still, his heart ached.  Dewey had dug up an old toy plane today and almost jumped off the roof of the houseboat with it to make it fly.  Della had done the exact same thing, once, back at Grandma’s farm, except she’d jumped off the henhouse and landed in a soft pile of hay.  And then later, Huey had gotten into an argument with Dewey that somehow ended in Huey making a new toy airplane for him that could actually fly a little to say sorry.  And boy, Donald had had to double check the old photo albums to make sure that Della really had disappeared before the boys had hatched, because Donald had long ago lost count of the number of times that Della had apologized to him with a gift.  Not to mention that Della had had a thing for toys that actually worked--airplanes that flew, boats that sailed, cars that drove. At least, until she’d been able to fly a plane of her own.

And then Louie had tried to sneak an extra can of Pep before dinner, and the look he gave Donald when he was caught--Donald’s heart had just about stopped.  It was like Della was _there_ , looking up at him in the kitchen of his houseboat.  It’d been all Donald could do to stammer out something about how he’d let it go, just this once, before shutting himself in his room to blink back tears and steady his breathing.

And their accomplishments.  Della’s boys were talented. Huey had won first place in the science fair last week.  Dewey had just gotten a part in his first school play, and Donald was working on getting Louie to volunteer to sell concessions so that he’d use his carefully-refined skill set for good, rather than scams.

Della should have been there to see all of this.

It had been _years_ since she’d disappeared.  Donald should have been used to her absence by now.  But he still found himself turning towards where she should be, ready to exchange proud smiles and good-natured ribs about the boys’ accomplishments.

Della would have _loved_ Huey’s volcano model and the detailed explanations about both how volcanoes worked and how baking soda and vinegar reacted to create the eruption.  She’d have loved to help Dewey practice his lines and drive him to and from rehearsals. And she would have gotten quite the kick out of having to scold Louie for selling a group of classmates the belltower of their school.

 _“Huey’s a lot like you, Donnie,”_ she’d have said, especially once he’d started showing signs of the famous Duck/McDuck temper.

 _“Dewey’s the spitting image of you, Del,”_ he’d have said back.  Donald’s heart clenched, hard.  It was rare for him to acknowledge the similarities between his boys and their family members.  _"But what about Louie?”_

 _“He’s like Uncle Scrooge, of course!”_ Della would have said with a laugh.  _"You’ve seen how he eyes the money in the Bin.”_

Donald shook the image out of his head.  Nope. Nuh-uh. He wasn’t going there. Uncle Scrooge was the reason that none of this could ever happen.  He didn’t even deserve to be in his fantasy.

But Donald’s brain just wouldn’t let it go.

 _“More like Gladstone,”_ he’d have replied. _"Lazy and a sloth, but expects wealth and good fortune to drop into his lap.”_

 _“Oh, stop,”_ Della would have said, probably giving him a little shove.  _"He’s not that bad.”_

Donald would have shrugged.  _"Only because_ you’re _raising him.  Could you imagine if he were Gladstone’s kid?”_

And Della would have laughed, and they would have thanked the Powers That Be that Gladstone didn’t have any kids, and that would have been that.

Donald wiped tears away with the palm of his hand.  He’d never wish his nephews away, not even for a moment, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if things would be easier without the constant reminder of her absence.

Donald shook his head.  There was no use brooding over it; it wasn’t like it was going to bring any of them back.  He drained the rest of his tea and turned to go back inside. It was definitely time for bed.

Donald put his mug in the sink and turned out the kitchen lights.  Before heading to his own room, he peeked into the boys’. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw them in there, each sprawled out fast asleep on their bunks.  It looked like Huey had goaded his brothers into tidying up a little (or possibly he’d cleaned up himself), though their homework was still covering the kitchen table.  Donald would have to remember that for tomorrow.

Donald began to close the door when he was stopped by a small voice.

“Uncle Donald?”

Donald quietly opened the door back up.  “Yes, Dewey?”

Dewey held out his arms, and Donald tiptoed over to give him a tight hug.  

“Good night, Uncle Donald.”

“Good night, Dewey.”

Dewey snuggled back into his blankets and immediately fell back asleep.  Donald watched him for a few seconds before creeping back out of the room and softly closing the door.

As much as they made him miss his family, sometimes moments like these made him feel like he was actually doing alright.


End file.
